Almost Lover
by LaFlaneur
Summary: It hadn't been difficult to fall in love with Jem; everyone fell in love with Jem. Rated T for lovely Heronstairs angst.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**: Hello all, and welcome to my very first Heronstairs fic. I have a few more in the making as we speak, but you should know before you begin that I write in a world where Tessa Gray _does not exist_. This is very important. I write less plot and more character development - generally angsty nonsense that doesn't really fit into any particular timeline or accepted canon universe. This particular piece is written from Will's point of view and details his feelings for Jem, culminating in what might be considered their "first kiss". Very melodramatic - a study in prose poetry with very little dialogue. _

_As I said before, if you like this then there is certainly more to come. Just remember, the only ship I ship is Heronstairs, so if you're looking for anything Tessa-related then you have come to the wrong place._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

It hadn't been difficult to fall in love with Jem. _Everyone_ fell in love with Jem. Kindness radiated from his every pore – tenderness and tragic, empty happiness lived in his pale eyes. Skin like porcelain and long, slim violinist's fingers caught you and pulled you along by the wrist. Fragile like frozen bubbles and breakable as beautiful blown glass. With a smile to melt even the coldest heart and a laugh that reminded one of lazy days in the sun and all the joys and sorrows of childhood, all at once and all sharp lovely reminiscence. That was Jem. It was _all_ Jem, everywhere and always, and Will was uniquely aware of this fact.

It wasn't that he had been afraid to tell Jem these things. For reasons unknown, Jem had already given Will every sign that he was Will's for the taking. It was Will who had chosen Jem first, but Jem had chosen him every time after that. Again and again, soft and steady as a silent November snow, Jem chose his _parabatai _first and smiled – just smiled, as if loving Will for and despite the darker boy's deplorable temperament were the most obvious choice in the world.

No. Will had kept all those words to himself not because he feared rejection, but because Jem was simply too perfect. The boy was immaculate – a silver jewel too precious for Will's grubby fingers. As friends they were fine, as _parabatai _they excelled – as lovers they would have made a fine mess. Will knew this. He knew he would have dirtied Jem even without meaning to. A casual arm slung about the shoulders was one thing – a lover's embrace was a vast and terrifying other. The thought of Jem's lips, his throat, the fine skin stretched taut over delicate cheekbones … Will had dirt beneath his fingernails and knew he could never touch Jem in those lovely places, not in those ways. Not in the ways he wanted.

He had all but told Jem so, all those long nights ago, when Jem had come to him. After a hunt, as it always was that Will felt closest to Jem. His parabatai had been dealt a devastating blow to the back of the shoulder – the fair skin was rent to display the sinew and fine muscle beneath. He was facing away from Will, wincing as his friend cleaned the wound of dirt and debris. If Will took longer than necessary, lingering over the soft skin and the delicate shoulder blade, he did not think Jem would notice. But he was wrong.

A quarter of an hour later, Jem hummed a soft melody as Will finished his work – the pain gone, Jem allowed himself to be soothed by his friend's sure fingers. And Will, in turn, found himself absently caught in Jem's low voice and the notes that vibrated in his chest and the bones beneath Will's hand.

Will closed his eyes, his thumb travelling up from Jem's shoulder, over the back of his neck and to his hairline. Without ceasing his song, Jem brought his left hand up and across to catch Will's fingers where they rested just above his jaw line, just behind his ear, until both boys were cupping the right side of Jem's face, hand over hand, bound and touching and breathing and waiting.

And then Jem's song abruptly ended and Will pulled back. He waited for his brother's next move.

But Jem only turned to look at him, slowly, a sweet smile on his lips. It was obvious that he was not rejecting Will's subconscious advances… And Will thought for a moment – hesitated – wondered if he might just get away with it. If he could touch Jem without soiling him, if he could have Jem without hurting him. And the words were there on his tongue: _Yes, Jem, I see you, and I know what you are thinking. I share your thoughts. And I want you too; I have always wanted you. I loved you first, I am certain. But that doesn't matter now. None of it matters now. I am yours and always have been yours. You can have all of me, James, everything I am or have been or will ever be. There is no Will Herondale without Jem Carstairs. You can take me and have me and I will be yours today and forever and in any and every hereafter. You are beautiful, James, and I should not touch you but I want to, oh, I want you and all of your lovely words and your perfect smiles for as long as you choose to share them with me because I love you, I love you, I love you as I have never loved anyone …_

But those words were stillborn and his tongue laid limp against his teeth.

"Will?"

Will couldn't speak and when Jem leaned forward he began to panic. This was not at all how he imagined it would go. He wasn't ready. He sat frozen as Jem reached out to touch his face. Cool fingers on his flushed cheek felt so heavenly that Will nearly missed the words that came after.

"Did I… did I misinterpret your intentions, Will?"

Will stared at Jem, at the way his lips formed the words Will was not hearing. Now was his chance. Jem was smiling, and waiting, and Will could reach out and touch him if he chose. Jem was asking …

But then Jem was frowning at Will's prolonged silence and retracting his hand and apologizing – just as if his love were not the single most important point in Will's universe – the pale sun around which all of Will's thoughts orbited.

"I do not mean to take liberties," Jem said, already pulling his shirt from Will's lap and covering his exposed skin. "Forgive me, Will…"

And Jem looked so sad, and so shamed; and Will knew he should let him go. One night of hurt was surely better than the terrible burden of Will's love from this night henceforth. But logic played no part where Jem's lips were concerned and his frown broke Will's heart into a billion shards, all with Jem's name finely carved in lovely script.

"You have no cause to ask my forgiveness," Will said quickly – too quickly, catching Jem's hand at the door. "Jem, you've done _nothing_ wrong."

And Jem did not hesitate a second time, but took Will's face between his hands, spread his slim fingers over Will's cheeks and let his thumbs rest in the hollows beneath Will's blue eyes.

Will knew he should have closed his eyes – he had kissed plenty of girls, after all, the procedure could not have been all that different. But he could not bring himself to lose sight of the beauty before him. Instead he studied Jem's fine silver lashes and the eyelids as delicate as tissue paper. One … two seconds. And then Will shut his eyes tight against the tears forming there and brought his arms up to crush Jem to him. A huff of startled laughter came between them but Jem did not break the kiss. He smiled against Will's lips and let his fingers trail down Will's face, over his cheekbones and down his jaw line.

Will's hands soon mirrored Jem's, and he struggled with himself and all the places he wanted to _touch_ all at once. He marveled at Jem's grace – how gently and expertly he shifted Will's gravity.

And Will's hands were everywhere – in Jem's hair, at Jem's waist, around Jem's neck, pushing and pulling all at once, desperate sounds in his throat and frustrated, needy tears in his eyes.

"Will," Jem murmured, breaking away to kiss Will's temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Will nipped back at him, but Jem was chuckling softly, "Will, easy … slow down."

Will meant to laugh along with Jem, but instead a sob broke from his throat and he pushed Jem roughly away before grabbing his shirt front and pulling him back close.

"Will?" Jem pleaded, but Will's eyes were shut fast. "Will!"

"Jem," Will whispered, "Jem, Jem, Jem, Jem, Jem, Jem, _Jem_, Jem…"

And Jem did not ask, but pulled Will's head to him, placed it on his chest and let Will's ear rest over his heart. He smoothed the hair back from Will's damp forehead, petting Will and letting the other boy sob and pant and run his hands all over Jem's face, his hair, his arms. "Will, talk to me. What is it? What have I done? Anything you want, Will, just tell me…"

But Will didn't speak. Just let himself slow to silence in Jem's arms; let the passion and the torment ebb away until he knew he would be able to control himself. And just as he opened his eyes to see his own dirty fingers bunched in the shoulder of Jem's shirt, Jem said, "I love you, William," and Will knew that that must be the end of it.

He did not let himself meet Jem's eyes as he pushed away. He knew the grey light there would kill him – that the silver hope in Jem's eyes and the way his friend would forgive him anything, even this, would slice right into his soul and leave a scar for all to see.

No, he did not meet Jem's eyes, but he could not stop himself hearing the break in Jem's voice as the boy asked only, "Will?" before Will was out the door and down the hall...

There were other nights, of course, when they would be alone and Jem would adopt that tone of voice he saved only for Will. And Will would flinch when he heard it, and Jem would ask, "Why?" and Will would have to get up and leave the room without a word. He hated himself for it, but took the smallest comfort in knowing that it was surely for the best. That Jem would understand and move on. And he need never know that sometimes Will would stand outside Jem's door at night, or weep to hear Jem's violin, or whisper Jem's name in the stillness of the early morning hours.

Jem would remain his greatest sin – his sweetest failing. The only thing he wanted and the only thing he could never have – could never touch, no matter how his fingers burned and his heart ached.

And so they danced around each other – the pale, fragile angel and his dark, brooding love. Two parts of the same whole, complementary beats of the same soul, they orbited one around the other. But they could never touch, lest they both come crashing down. And so Will could only sigh, and love in silence, and refer to Jem in the darkness of the long night as his almost-lover. The only light he would ever know, the fleeting fragile depth that pulled him down and overwhelmed him and saw him and saved him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**__ Hello again. I know it's been a while, but this piece has been sitting on my hard drive for forever and I thought it was high time to publish. These two little fillets certainly don't constitute a "real" story, I know, but I honestly can't help myself when it comes to Heronstairs fluff. Anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave me some kind words if you feel so inclined._

Will was in his bedroom. His window was closed but he could hear the ridiculous cacophony of birds wreaking havoc in Charlotte's rosebushes. It was the first weeks of March – unseasonably warm and insufferably cheerful with all the birdsong and clouds and treacherous best friends who kissed you and then left you dreaming for weeks on end.

Yes, Will knew it was his own fault. Yes, Will had been the one to push Jem away. And yes, Will had been intolerable and moody since that night. But really, it had been for a good cause. And Will stood by his decision. It was just something Jem was going to have to get over. There was no reason for all this silence, this awkward brooding. It were as if both boys – the two who had spent years orbiting one another – had finally collided, sending both spinning off into new and surprising directions. Will became silent and secretive; Jem became awkward and cautious. Both tiptoed around each other, afraid to adopt their old banter, the easy comfort they had enjoyed. Will snapped at the slightest provocation and Jem assumed an absurdly cold courtesy that left the others in the house shivering in the wake of their cool exchanges. It was taking far longer than it should have to fall back into their old trajectories.

That was, until this evening, when Jem came knocking at his door. Will was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a book between two hands, attempting to shield himself from the slanted light of the sunset pouring in through the slim window. "Yes, what is it?" he called, not bothering to clear his line of sight.

He heard the door open, then the click of Jem's cane as he came inside and shut the door behind him. Will swallowed but made no move to lower his book. Jem had not been in his room – nor he in Jem's – since … _it_ happened. Jem's boldness now gave Will pause. He waited.

"Will," Jem said evenly, and Will could tell that he was attempting to be civil.

"Yes?"

A beat, and then: "Will, would you pay me the courtesy of your full attention?"

"No," Will said hastily. He did not want to do this now. He was busy wallowing. He did not want a heart-to-heart, nor any piteous outpouring of … feelings.

Jem huffed. "Will." His tone held just the hint of a warning.

"No."

"William, you're being-"

"I don't want to talk, Jem."

"Nor do I."

Well.

Will lowered his book an inch … two … three. He peered over the top, childishly, and tried to hide his grin when Jem rolled his silver eyes.

"Will," he said, resuming his formal tone. "I appreciate your desire to hole yourself up in here for the rest of your life, I do. However, this is getting a little out of hand. We hardly see each other but for meal times, and even then you refuse to speak to me. We haven't trained in ages; you haven't been to classes. I know things have been…" Jem seemed to struggle for the right word. "Confusing," he finally decided. "I know I may have acted out of turn," Jem watched as Will's eyes narrowed and hurried through the rest, "and that you – that you had every right to push me away."

Will stared at him – took in the uncomfortable set of Jem's jaw, the tired shadows under his eyes, the deflated way he held himself. And he waited.

Jem seemed unsettled by Will's silence but took the opportunity to continue along with his speech. "I have not asked you for an explanation, nor will I. I understand your discomfort and I have kept my distance. But Will…" For a moment Jem's voice cracked and his cold politesse slipped. He shook his head and recovered himself abruptly.

"William," he began again, "our bond is not dissolved because I have acted … inappropriately. If you would like to sever our connection, you know the steps you must take. Otherwise…" Jem paused a moment, as if to allow Will time to take the first option. When Will kept his silence, Jem concluded: "Otherwise, I ask that we put my foolish actions out of mind – forget this ever happened and try to carry on as we once were. If you … if you can see your way to resuming our friendship, I can promise you I will never put you in such a predicament again."

That is when Will jerked his book back into place, subconsciously rejecting the idea of Jem's last words.

Jem startled for a moment. "…W-will?"

But Will's demeanor became abruptly cold once more and he said, "I thought you said you didn't want to talk."

"I don't," Jem sighed, exasperated, "I just wanted the chance to say … what I said. That's all. No more talking."

"So you're leaving?"

"No."

Will's brows creased behind his book, but he couldn't help a small smile at the way Jem was baiting him. He gave in. "Well… _what_ then?"

"Come walk with me?"

This Will had not expected. He finally lowered his book all the way to his lap and looked at Jem with disbelief. "Walk with you?" he repeated.

"Walk with me," Jem confirmed, a hesitant smile playing at the left hand corner of his lips.

Will coughed, examined his nails, pretended to take the thought under consideration.

"Well?" Jem asked finally, rolling his eyes at Will's feigned disinterest. "We used to walk all the time. And it's a lovely evening. Spring is coming," he said this last lamely, forced optimism clear in his tone.

Will bit his lip. Their distance had been good for him, in a manner of speaking. There were some nights Will had dreams that were not filled with pale eyes and clever fingers. He had pushed Jem away for a reason. He had pushed him away because he wanted him. Will knew this, and he knew Jem knew this, despite Jem's gentlemanly words tonight. He was an angel for taking all the blame on himself – for giving Will an easy out. By saying out loud that Jem were the one at fault – that it was _Jem_ who advanced and _Will_ who retreated, well, that gave Will the opportunity to "accept Jem's apology" and move on. Jem was giving him the chance to keep all his awful, tormented faults to himself. Jem would not ask, and Will need never tell why he wanted Jem but pushed him away. Jem was offering friendship; Jem was offering to turn a blind eye to the painful attraction between them, if that's what Will wanted. They could go back to the way they had been – both wanting, both knowing, but neither saying. There would be no need to define this new dynamic of theirs as, with Will's consent, it could fade into oblivion after this night.

Is that what Will wanted? He had been content enough to live the lie before … but now? Now that Jem had kissed him with those perfect lips and held him flush against his heart? Perhaps his resolve wasn't as strong as he'd thought. Not now that he knew what every curve of Jem's body felt like, or that up close Jem smelled like brown sugar and rosin, or that just kissing Will had caused Jem to flush from chest to cheek.

"I don't know, Jem…"

Jem rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. "Oh for goodness' sake, William, I am not going to violate you beside the duck pond. Now please … can we put this behind us?"

Will smiled and considered the wonder that was Jem Carstairs. "Yes," he said, not allowing himself to form any second thoughts. Surely being Jem's friend was better than the forced politeness they had adopted? And not touching Jem, or kissing him, or holding him, well … that was a sacrifice that must be borne. Will had done it before, and he could do it again. "Yes, let's go walk."

Jem had been right. It was a lovely night. The water of the duck pond rippled slightly with the early spring breeze; birds were returning from wherever it was they went in the colder months to rest in the overgrown oak trees on the Institute's grounds. Even Church was out. Will saw him watch a squirrel as it hopped up to a safer height.

"What a deplorably lazy creature," Will griped, gesturing.

Jem smiled. "Coming from you, that's quite an accusation."

"I resent that, Jem. Would you consider me lazy?"

"Yes," Jem said without hesitation, "You've been known to spend weeks on end abed."

Will frowned. "_Reading_, Jem, reading. There is nothing at all lazy about reading."

"Of course," Jem chuckled. "I must beg your forgiveness."

"You have nothing to apolog-" but Will stopped short, hearing the echo of the words they had spoken months ago. He sighed.

But Jem was quicker – he was always quicker than Will, smarter than Will. "Anyway, I hear Sophie has been taking him out for exercise. A fruitless endeavor, apparently."

Will hummed his consent, not yet fully recovered from his mistake and its consequent reminders of a time and place better left buried.

Jem tried a different angle. "Will you look at that?" he said mildly, pointing with his cane, "it seems we've a new family of ducks take up residence."

This time he was successful. The look of repulsion on Will's face was grossly exaggerated. Jem laughed out loud and Will let the sound go straight to his core.

They sent playful banter back and forth thus until it almost seemed as if things were back to normal. Will provoked and Jem chided; Jem teased and Will acted at indignation. They discussed all the gossip they had each been missing since their reluctant separation. And they sat by the water's edge and Jem looked up at the sky and Will twisted blades of grass between his fingers. But when a moment of silence opened a gap between them, Will's tongue acted without his express consent.

"It's not you, you know."

Jem kept his silence a moment, wondering if he were able to do this a second time – come close to Will, revisit the possibility of having Will, only to be separated once more.

"I thought we were going to put this behind us, Will?"

Will bit his lip.

"Whatever your reasons," Jem continued, "they are your own. I am not asking you to reconsider."

Will kept his eyes fixed on a spot across the pond – a bit of cat weed sprouting from the water. He wanted to shout at Jem that he _wanted_ Jem to ask him to reconsider. He wanted Jem to demand that he reconsider. Jem kept his emotions so well guarded. Whether he were hurting or not, Jem's stoicism was easy to accept and overlook. But if he shouted, or begged, or bargained with Will … Will knew he would give in. Was that it, then? Was he really considering breaking the promise he'd made to himself all those years ago – the day he knew he loved Jem, and the almost instantaneous realization that he could never have him?

"Ask me," he said.

Jem turned to look at him and Will mirrored his move.

"Ask me," he repeated, his eyes widening with the realization of his own request.

Jem shook his head. He couldn't keep up with Will. He had never been able to keep up with Will. But that didn't mean he could ever deny him a direct request. "Please … reconsider?" he said, half question, half teasing disbelief.

Will frowned. "You can do better," he said, and made Jem laugh out loud.

Will interrupted Jem's laugh with his lips, and Jem was so shocked that he fell backwards and had to catch himself on his elbows.

But Will advanced, leaning over him slightly. "Ask me to reconsider," he smiled, excited and defiant and bold. "Tell me to reconsider. _Convince_ me to reconsider."

Jem hesitated, but pushed himself back up until he was nose to nose with Will, staring him down. Dark blue eyes challenged him and Jem spoke without thinking.

"Please reconsider, Will," he said, gentle at first but quickly gathering steam. "Reconsider our earlier conversation. Reconsider your decision. Reconsider … me."

Will smiled. "Yes," he breathed, but Jem continued over him, gaining the upper hand inch by inch.

"Reconsider me, and I can promise you will not regret it. These months have been agony, Will. Reconsider me and we can go back to being us. Because kisses or no, we need to be us. And that means no distance, Will," another inch closer, "there is no space between us, ever, nor has there ever been. You're my brother. Reconsider me … reconsider, and consider being my … my lover." The word sounded foreign and dangerous, but it also sounded like exhaling.

"Reconsider me, William. Be my lover. Be with me every day and every night and let me go anywhere you will go. And let me…" Jem reached a tentative hand towards Will's astonished face, "let me touch you," he laid his palm against Will's cheek, "I want to touch you, Will, in all the ways you touch me. And I want to kiss you and hold you and have every part of you – the good and the really, truly, terribly awful parts." Both boys shared a fond smile. "Because you already have all of me. So consider taking me, Will. As your friend, your brother, your lover. I'm here, and I love you, and I must insist that you reconsider your earlier decision."

Will did not say yes. He did not nod. He pushed Jem back onto the grass and kissed him once, twice, three times. Then he laid his head against Jem's chest and pulled at his hands impatiently until Jem brought them up to hold Will closer. They laid for a few moments, suspended, quiet and calm but for the beating of both their hearts, uneven and quickening.

"Jem?" Will said after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"I love you too."

Jem chuckled fondly. "I know Will, of course I know."

"Then why were you so willing to forget everything and let me keep my distance?"

Jem considered. "Because I am not a man of uncontrollable passions. Because I knew you loved me, and that was enough. I didn't have to act on my desire, if I thought you were not ready to reciprocate. I was waiting for you, William. I will always wait for you."

"You knew? How did you know?"

Jem laughed. "I've always known, Will. For years. That night you touched my face, I thought … I thought you were ready. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. But I knew if I waited, you'd come around. We always find our way back to each other, don't we?"

Will smiled and smiled. "We do," he agreed. "We always will."


End file.
